Forgotten Memory
by xaNgeLz.21x
Summary: Thirty-five years ago, there was a battle. Thirty-five years ago, Allen Walker was there. 'Use me, Neah. I will protect your memories from the others! No matter how long it takes until you awaken. No matter what.'
1. Of How It All Began

**Disclaimer: DGM's not mine.**

**August 26, 1852, London**

A large-scale explosion racked the city, closely followed by smaller but more destructive explosions. Large chunks of debris, stone and metal rained down the town center. Screams were heard, and cries of pain and grief pierced through the evening sky. People kept emerging from the destroyed buildings which once served as shelter from the raging battle.

"Mama! Mama!" A girl managed to cry before she burst into dust.

"Elysia!"

"Help! It hurts! Somebody, please help me!"

A man with long rust-red hair ignored all these as he focused on the source of all these devastation. He hurried on, ignoring the cries of 'Lord Walker!' and 'Brother, you big idiot!' from his loyal servants and only sibling.

"Wait, Master Cross! Don't follow your brother!"

"Judgement!"

He heard a gun being fired but he paid it no mind. He hurried on with only one thought in mind.

_Neah D. Campbell...Don't you dare lose!_

He jumped over a large boulder that used to be part of the fifth floor of Charing Cross Hospital. He pulled out a small dagger from his pocket and twirled it repeatedly.

_Innocence, activate!_

The dagger grew and grew until it became a white broadsword with black border and a cross near the tip. A white cape appeared on his shoulders. He swung the sword, using it as a shield from the raining stones. The sky was lit with purple lightning as many balloon like machines known as Akumas fired their Blood bullets at a single target. The area filled with smoke.

Using all his training as a former Exorcist, the man made haste to reach his destination in time. One of the Level-One Akumas blocked his path. He did not hesitate in cutting the machine in half and using the pieces as boost to jump over a still-intact building.

A black figure detached itself from the clouded area and slammed onto the side of another building.

"Neah~!" A pudgy man in yellow coat cried from where he was floating using a pumpkin umbrella. Then his demeanour changed as he twirled the pink umbrella round and round, changing into a sword as it did so.

"_Neah! How could you?!"_

The pudgy man charged toward the building.

The redheaded man's eyes widened and he dashed to where the figure had crashed. He eliminated every demon that got into his way and immobilized the others surrounding him.

"Neah!" He screamed. But it was too late. The pudgy man whose sword was raised in front of him slammed onto the building, creating another large dust cloud. A Level-Two Akuma blocked his sight and he hastily sliced it into two.

He gave a sigh of relief as he saw Neah holding a short sword and blocking the Earl's black broadsword. But he knew it would not last. He willed his cape to wrap itself around the Earl's sword and gave it a mighty yank. Though he did not get the sword, he succeeded in catching the Earl's attention.

"Neah! Get out of there now!" He shouted as he played tug-o-war with the Earl.

"Walker~" The Earl said. He raised his free left hand and dark matter started to form in it. "_Don't get in my way!_"

"Neah!" Somebody shouted, attracting the two's attention. "Oh God, Neah! Please wake up! Sorry! I am sorry, Neah! Just please wake up!"

"Mana! Get the hell out of here!" The redhead shouted. But Mana did not hear him.

The Earl quickly lost interest in the redhead and floated near the brothers.

"Mana D. Campbell~"

Mana partially turned towards the Earl.

"Please, stop already!"

"_You_..._You're the reason for Neah's betrayal!" _The Earl angrily said as he raised his now freed sword. "_Die!"_

_Shit! _The redhead noble cursed as he hurriedly chanted.

"_On, Avata, Ura, Masarakat, On-gatar!"_

A black coffin wrapped in golden chains rose from the pavement. The chains unravelled and the coffin creaked open.

"_Grave of Maria, Activate! Maria, Magdala Curtain!"_

The Campbell brothers vanished from the Earl's view and the Earl's swing stopped short.

"Huh? Where?"

"_Carte Garde!"_

The Earl clutched his head as the music permeated his skull. His current form wavered, briefly revealing the true Noah underneath. The broadsword clattered to the ground. The Earl did not notice it disappear as Neah picked it up.

"N-Neah...Neah!" The Earl's rage overrode the Carte Garte and the hymn of Maria stopped. The redhead's concentration wavered and the coffin materialized around Maria before slamming shut. The Magdala Curtain vanished as well, revealing Neah holding the Earl's sword and Mana standing a bit of distance away.

"Here I am, Millenium. Let's finish this." And so they danced for there was no other word for it. The two fighters gracefully weaved through one another, dodging and attacking simultaneously. It would have looked beautiful had there not been blood raining down the spectators. The Earl had, halfway through the fight shed the fat demonic skin he wore.

The redhead watched, mesmerized by the ongoing fight. His sword had long since reverted back to its dagger form.

"He'll lose." Mana stated with tears running down his cheeks. He could not bear to watch, but he could not wretch his eyes away from the scene. It was his fault...

He wanted to believe that his brother would win for his sake, for theirs. But he knew he could not. The Earl was a powerful being, living for more than a thousand years. And Neah had only awakened five years ago.

Then Neah slammed into the wall near them, the broadsword held loosely in his hand.

The redhead acted immediately.

"_On-gatar! Magdala Curtain!"_ Maria's hymn shielded them from view.

"Eh? Where are you? Where are you?" The Earl floated down near their area. "No matter. No matter. You'll soon die anyway. There's no hope for you, Neah. I am a patient man; I can wait for the next rebirth."

"Ma...na..." Neah croaked as his eyes blindly searched.

"I'm here, Neah. I'm here. Please don't speak." Mana begged with tears streaming down his eyes. "W-we'll get you a doctor. A-and they can treat your wounds."

"There's...no more...hope. I've...lost too much..." Neah coughed and blood trailed down his mouth.

"Brother...please, no more..." Mana cried.

"The Earl...must not...get my memo...ries...Rebirth...Ark..."

The redhead understood what Neah wanted to say. He was not afraid. He would do everything for his friend.

"Neah, use me." He stated with conviction.

"A...llen...I can't. The Noah will...overcome you..." _I'll lose you, my friend..._

But Allen Walker was not listening.

"I will protect your memories from the others! No matter how long it takes until you awaken. No matter what."

"Allen...Neah..." Mana sobbed.

The two had a stare down to see who would cave in first.

"Thank you, Allen...Take...Tim..." Neah finally said. Allen smiled as he picked up his dagger. He carved a cross over his left hand and held out the bloody hand to Neah.

"So...you know...how..." Neah grasped the bloodied hand, laying his over the cross.

He chanted. A ritual circle appeared below them, revolving slowly as it rose. Then the revolution became faster until a ball of light had enclosed the two. The dagger broke and the Innocence became free of its container. It felt its accommodator and saw the dark matter entering its master. It did the only thing it could; it hovered over the clasped hands and sunk onto the wound of its accommodator. The ritual stopped and backlash was huge.

Allen felt pain on his left arm and saw it mutilating. The skin began turning red with veins showing out. He saw the Innocence merging with his left hand, fitting perfectly in the cross shaped wound. He saw the wound closing itself over the Innocence.

Then his body was racked with pain. And he knew why. The Innocence and Dark Matter were fighting in his body. He coughed up blood.

'_No, I can't die here. I need to protect Neah's...memories...' _Allen thought. His body, so used to Innocence, was rejecting Neah's memories.

"_On, Avata, Ura, Masarakat, On-Kikero!" _Hestarted the ritual.

The magical backlash hit Mana. It disrupted Mana's brain, making him forget for years that he had a brother. He would remember only his name and the name of the one who helped his brother-Allen Walker. He would take Walker as his own last name and would forever walk.

"Brother!"

_Marian...I'm sorry..._

"Masarakat!" Allen heard Marian shout. He opened his eyes to see that Marian had created a hole in his barrier.

"What are you doing, you idiot?!" Marian crouched beside Allen.

"Reversing my time." Before Marian could further question, Allen continued. "Neah's memories and my Innocence are fighting for dominance. I need an adaptable body. Listen, Marian-" "It's Cross, idiot." "-take this golden golem; that's Neah's Timcanpy. He carries Neah's will. You are part of the Third Side and therefore you will carry on the 14th's Will." He felt his body shrinking.

"But-"

"Don't interrupt me. Please. I don't have much time. Take care of Maria. You are her second accommodator; she will obey you. You know the spells to summon her, right?"

Maria-No, Cross nodded.

"I probably won't remember you, or anyone in the family. I don't know how long this adaptation will last, so please, take care of yourself. Goodbye, Marian."

Light engulfed Allen's body and soon it disappeared, streaking through the night sky before vanishing into the horizon. In an open but remote field, a giant crystal would stand. Locals would try to break it but to no avail. More than twenty years later, the crystal would vanish and a child with a paralyzed hand and no memories would stumble away from the field and into the village where he would learn to survive.

"Idiot," Marian cried. "You left your debts on me."

_Soshite bouya wa nemuri ni tsuita..._

**_Reviews are appreciated. Say, do you think I should continue this or have it remain as a one-shot? One shot or not?_**


	2. Of the Suffering I've Been Through

**July 26, 1880, Edinburgh, Scotland**

A small child, barely eight years old, stumbled out of a dark alley. He was naked as a newborn with only a large, expensive-looking coat as his cover. His long reddish brown hair was tangled with grass and branches. His arms coated with dirt and mud and his small feet covered with cuts.

Thunderous footsteps were heading in his direction. Seconds later, the child felt himself pushed aside as a crowd of policemen, headed by an inspector, rushed past him. They were shouting something that caused the townspeople to stop whatever they were doing and follow them.

"The crystal! It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Saw it vanish from a distance! When I got there, all that's left were clothes. "

Soon, most of the people were rushing on, following the policemen. They paid no heed to the small child that was sprawled on the ground. The disappearance of the crystal which had served as one of the town's attraction was much more important. It had stood there in that pasture for almost thirty years; for it to suddenly vanish was a mystery.

But the small child did not hear any of it. In fact, if the glazed look he sported was to go by, he was barely paying attention to the ongoing around him. He picked himself off the ground and continued walking. He walked on, dragging his small feet onward. His destination? Nowhere.

He walked and walked until he bumped into someone. Once again, he fell on the ground.

"Watch where yer goin', kid!" The man growled. He would have continued on had he not seen the coat the child was wearing. "Where didja get this coat? Didja steal it?"

The child did not reply for he had no awareness of the world. He merely gazed blankly at the mean-looking man. The man, annoyed, grabbed the child's large coat and shook it. The coat bunched up and a part of the child's arm was revealed.

The man gasped as the child's hideous, wrinkled, red hand was shown.

"Oi, Fredrick, get a load of this!" The man seemingly called to his companion.

Somebody approached them. It was a thin man with wide eyes.

Fredrick gasped as he too saw the arm.

"Seems like we hit the jackpot, Tom." He smirked. He was one of those traders who picked up homeless kids and sold them to dealers. They could not care less whatever the dealer wanted the child for.

"How much do you reckon he'll sell?" Tom asked as he picked up the nonresponsive child and loaded him with the others in the carriage.

"More than a hundred pounds, I reckon. We'll be rich." Fred replied. He swung on the carriage and took the bridle.

"Circus is still in town." Tom said with a greedy smile on his face.

"Ringmaster ain't a cheapskate either." His partner agreed.

The children in the carriage were oblivious of their fate. They were chattering excitedly about the new and happy life that the two weird but nice men promised. They tried to talk to the new addition, but he was ignoring them. Soon, they lost interest in the red-haired child.

A smile was shared as the two rode off to the town's center. The circus was showing there and if their information was correct, then it would be leaving today in the evening. They had to hurry if they wanted their money.

The carriage hit a large bump that momentarily unbalanced it. The children cried as they were rattled inside. One particular child had hit his head hard on the carriage's wall. He cried out, the first sound he produced since discovery, and curled inward, clutching his aching head with his hands. But as he moved his left, it was wracked with pain.

There were gasps around him as he held his throbbing head. A moment and the ache passed. He tentatively raised his head and became aware of his surroundings.

_Where...? _He blinked. He was surrounded by children from the age four to ten, and all were pointing at him.

_What...? _They sat at a distance away from him. They were whispering amongst themselves.

"_What's that?"_

"_Demon..."_

"_Freak!"_

"_Monster..!" _The child was confused. Were they talking about him? For that matter, who was he? He looked down at where the other children were pointing at.

And he too gave a gasp as he saw his left hand. A red, grotesque left hand with something embedded over it that glowed a dull green. He tried to move it, but found that he could not.

The carriage stopped and music could be heard through the folds of the carriage. Then light streamed into the carriage as a man looked through.

"You, Red, come o'er here." The man was pointing at the small child.

_Did he mean me? _The child wondered. He started to crawl towards the man. The other children gave way, some even emitting scared squeaks.

As soon as he was within range, the man hoisted him up by the armpits and lowered him on the ground.

"Hey, Fred! I got 'im!" The man shouted. Tom led the child to his companion who was talking to a pudgy man, the Ringmaster.

"How much can we get?" Tom asked the Ringmaster who was inspecting the child's face.

"He doesn't look horrible. However, that depends if you're telling the truth. Show me." The Ringmaster ordered.

Fred yanked the left sleeve of the coat, showing the blood red, wrinkled arm of the boy.

"Marvelous. Simply horrible. Yes, yes, he will do well with the show." The Ringmaster exclaimed. He began the negotiation with the pair.

"Fine, a hundred pounds, that's all I can give." The Ringmaster finally relented. He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket and handed it to the one known as Fred. Fred pocketed it with a grin.

He put a hand at the child's back and gave a slight push. The child stumbled a bit with his too large coat.

"Go on, kiddo. Bye!" The two men chortled as they headed back to their carriage.

"Come, boy." The Ringmaster ordered. The child followed, dragging his coat on the ground. "What is your name?"

The child opened his mouth to answer, but found that he could not find the answer to the question.

"I dunno, sir. Will I get one?"

The Ringmaster glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? Hmm, it doesn't matter. You are simply nameless here. Come now. Hurry. We need you outfitted for our next performance at the next town."

"P-performance?" The child asked.

"Why, yes. You shall be showcasing that horrible arm of yours. I am willing to bet that it would give us a fortune."

"But, but..." The child was reluctant. He felt that showing off his arm in public would cause more harm than good.

"But what?" The Ringmaster impatiently asked.

"I, I can't do anything with this arm. It's paralyzed, sir." The child reluctantly answered. They had reached a bright orange tent.

The Ringmaster had a sour look on his face.

"But I can do odd jobs here, sir! I promise! You don't even hafta pay me! J-just gimme somethin' ta eat..." The child pleaded even as he clutched the coat closer.

The Ringmaster did not answer. "Jessie!" he called.

"Yes, sir?" A young woman poked her head out of a clothes rack.

"Get this child some clothes." The Ringmaster ordered. He then turned to the boy. "And you, report to me at eight later in the evening. Find me at the red tent with white strips." He said this while jabbing his cane at the boy's chest.

"Y-yes, sir!" The child promised and watched as the Ringmaster shot him a disgusted look and left.

"Boy, come here." The woman called Jessie said. The child shuffled forward. "Remove that coat. I need to get your measurements."

The child unbuttoned the coat and it fell at a bunch at his feet. He was aware of his nakedness and the daft coming from outside as he watched the woman shuffle about looking for something to wear.

"Here, try thi-_Oh dear Lord, what is that?!_" She shrieked as she saw the deformed arm. She dropped the bundle of clothes she was holding. "Boy, what have you been doing to yourself?"

"I,I,I..." The child stuttered. He saw the fearful look the woman had shot him. So much disgust and fear. He felt his knees weaken and he fell on his coat.

"Lord, protect me from this accursed child and lead me away from temptations." The woman prayed. She made the Sign of the Cross as she finished with her prayer. She took a deep breath as she picked up the clothes and threw them at the child. "Here, take this. Go take a wash. The water's at the back. And don't ever think of comin' back 'ere, you freak."

The child picked up the clothes and buttoned on his coat. He made quick work of cleaning himself as he scrubbed off the crusts of dirt on his smooth hand and untangled the branches from his hair. In a few minutes, he was clean and outfitted in his new clothes.

The shirt the woman gave him was a size too big and the collar was somewhat frayed around the edges. The vest the woman provided were too short and the shorts were too big. If he wanted to, he could pull on the garter and cover his entire head. Although Jessie had practically thrown him out of the tent, she was kind enough to provide a hair tie for him.

The child took a look at the coat he had worn and folded it neatly, before stuffing it in the pocket of his shorts' large pocket. He would find a place to store it later. He glanced up the sky and saw that it was still afternoon. Subconsciously, he knew that it was nearing five in the afternoon.

With three hours to spare, he decided to explore and find scissors to cut his hair. It flowed up to his back, even if it was tied. Resolving to find someone with scissors, or a knife, he trudged through the place which he knew now was a circus.

He was awed by what he saw. There were many colors and sounds. The air was filled with adults and children's laughter alike as they approached the different stalls of food and games. He saw a lady wield an air gun and shoot at a target.

The child itched to play at least one of the games, but he knew that the Ringmaster would not approve of it. Then again, if the booth handler saw his left arm, he would be chased out before he could open his mouth. He trudged onwards searching for someone who could lend him scissors.

On his way, he saw a clown balancing on a ball while juggling bowling pins. Children crowded around the clown, oohing and awwing. Then the clown slid off the ball and stumbled slightly. He made his stumble comical even though the child knew that the stumble was unintentional.

The clown began held out a hand and people threw money in it. The clown finished collecting money and gave a low bow. The crowd dispersed, seeing that the performance was done. The child continued on his exploration.

Before he knew it, the sky had been tinged with orange with night only a few minutes away. The child hurried to the red-white tent which happened to be the largest tent there was. The Ringmaster was already waiting for him. And he did not look pleased.

"What kept you, boy?!" The Ringmaster raged. "Hurry up. In here."

There were people streaming out of the tent, laughing and chattering excitedly with each other. Some carried cups of soda and popcorn which they haphazardly threw on the ground.

The Ringmaster and the child slipped into the tent, avoiding the outgoing people, and stopped behind the chairs. The performers were already taking down the streamers and rings that decorated the tent.

"Kid, your job is to store those props in the boxes backstage. The boxes are already labeled accordingly. I will check up on you by ten." The Ringmaster ordered.

The child gave a sweeping glance at the tent's interior. He gulped. Some people were already looking at him coldly and he knew that they'd already heard about him from the lady.

He hurried on to the first prop he saw and began gathering. He tried to ignore how some people skirted away from him.

"Oi, kid with the red arm," Somebody called him. It was the clown from earlier. The one who stumbled. "You missed some props here."

"Y-yes!" The child answered. He held the gathered props with his paralyzed left arm and went to where the clown was pointing. As soon as he reached the clown, he felt a sharp kick to his ribs. He met the ground for the fourth time that day. The props he'd gathered scattered everywhere.

He heard laughter and saw through teary eyes the clown laughing at him.

"That's what freaks deserved, you demon." The clown sneered. Laughing, he exited the tent.

The child was hurt, but the emotional pain was greater than the physical. He felt like crying, but he refused to let the stupid clown know he had hurt him. Instead, he bent down and retrieved the fallen props. He noticed that nobody had stopped to help him as he gathered the props one-handed. Instead, he could feel their stares as they waited. Perhaps for him to snap and hurt that clown?

He said nothing and took the props backstage. He saw the boxes the Ringmaster mentioned. He reached up to put the props in the 'Rings' box but stopped as he felt pain in his ribs. The clown, it seemed, had bruised his ribs.

He clenched his teeth and continued with his action. He would do this. He had to do this. If he didn't, where would he go? He had no memories of anything. He just had to continue this until he grew stronger and be self-sufficient enough to leave.

Yes, that's what he would do. And that's what he did for two years until a certain clown arrived and took him away.

* * *

**Thanks to Aine, QuietRose-13, Tora19Kage and Happycafegirl for reading this through, and following, faving and/or reviewing this fic :)**

**I've decided to continue this. Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think. Reviews are love :)**

**Next: December 25, 1882**


	3. Of How I Watched Silently While You Wept

**Some conversations are taken from _Lost Fragment of Snow, _the second chapter from the third novel of DGM: Reverse.**

**December 22, 1882, Manchester, England**

Newly-appointed General Cross Marian sighed as he trudged along the snow-ridden path. Why did he join the Black Order in the first place? Being a freelance Exorcist seemed better than being ordered around. Oh yeah, the Finders found him at the ruins of London and noticed his Innocence gun. There was no way he _couldn't _join the Black Order. He should've run away the moment he spotted the tan coats. Stupid emotional moment.

He had just finished his assignment in the neighboring town, Droylsden regarding a strange statue that predicted the deaths of anyone who touched it. Of course, none of its predictions came true and it annoyed the locals to no end. The story reached the ears of the Black Order and they sent Finders after it. However, the Akumas nearby had also sensed the Innocence's presence and had started moving.

The Finders sent a message to the Black Order about the impending danger and the Order saw fit to send the 'only' available Exorcist in the HQ. That damn Komui refused to send his 'darling, sweet, innocent Leenalee' stating that she had just come back from a mission two days ago.

Cross had taken a train with a Finder, who he didn't bother to ask the name, to the nearest town with a train station. A carriage had been set up there to take them to Droylsden. On their way, they encountered six Level One Akumas which destroyed their carriage. All were obliterated by Cross. Those fucking heathens forced him to run toward the town, and he hated dirtying his clothes.

Upon arriving, he saw the Finders unsuccessfully pushing the Akumas away from the statue. Shots were fired and the Akumas were soon nowhere to be found. Cross ignored the grateful 'Thanks' sent his way and immediately zoned in on the statue.

He took savage pleasure in destroying the awful statue. He took the Innocence and stored in his new but now dirty General's cloak. He proceeded to question the locals about their red light district. He had every intention of getting smashed.

However, the locals chokingly informed him that the town had none of those. It was relatively new, after all.

That caused Cross to be shocked, then angry. There were no train stations nearby and the nearest town was the capital, Manchester. He once again ignored the Finders as he stormed off, intent of reaching the next town that day.

Che, he'd send the report when he felt like it. He was a General now, and weren't Generals supposed to wander aimlessly until they'd found an Innocence and an accommodator?

Unfortunately, he did not reach the capital that day. Instead he was forced to camp out in the freezing snow. He reached Manchester by the afternoon the next day. By then, he was thoroughly annoyed.

Upon arriving, he grilled the nearest local about the town's red light district which they thankfully had. He made a beeline for one of the town's whorehouses. He, of course, chose the most extravagant one he could find. He found that, through 'research', most expensive places dished out the best services and alcoholic beverages.

He put all expenses on one Malcolm C. Lvellie's tab. The man was such a stick in the mud and it was somewhat his fault for forcing him to join the Order. That Malcolm shouldn't have made a callous remark that made Cross lose his temper and agree. He was not a coward, damn it!

That was how Cross Marian spent the next two days in Manchester, hopping from one bar to another until Lvellie's tab reached more than a thousand gold coins.

* * *

**December 24, 1882**

Cross finally got bored and checked himself in a simple inn. This time he paid with his own money which was sparingly few. That damn brother of his pushing all his debts on Cross! Even after twenty years, the damn debt collectors were still hounding him.

After leaving his things in his room, he got up and decided to walk around town. He put on his faded winter coat and tied his hair back. As he was exploring the town, he noticed a tense atmosphere permeating the air. His sharp eyes immediately honed on townspeople eyeing him hungrily.

_1..2...3...10...20...25..._

He counted at least twenty-five and he supposed that there were many more scattered across town. The question was: Why weren't they attacking?

Unless...a Noah?

Then he heard cheering and from the top of the crowd's head, he saw a powdered face of a clown. He would have gone on and ignore the circus performance when through a gap, he saw a red-haired kid performing an impressive somersault and landing nimbly like a cat. Then Cross saw the kid's face.

He pushed through the crowd until he reached the front. The duo was bowing when he reached them. The kid was holding out a silk cap in which people were tossing coins. He gazed at the blushing kid's face, taking on his features meticulously and comparing it to someone he knew.

If this was him...would he...?

"Kid, what's your name?" Cross demanded. He saw the kid turn around and seem to shrink back.

_Allen would never do that._

He felt pity and put some money in the kid's hat. The kid looked shocked and continued to gaze dumbly at him.

_Allen would never have a dumb look on his face._

"Didn't you hear me? Your name." Cross repeated impatiently when he saw the kid still staring.

Then the kid shook his head and turned away from him. He was ignoring him?

The brat continued giving out the fliers he was holding and telling promotional statements to those listening.

"Oi!" Cross shouted. He took a stab in the dark. "You're called Allen?"

The boy actually froze and for a moment, Cross hoped that he would say 'yes'.

"No." The boy mumbled as he glanced at Cross. Cross concealed the disappointment he felt with that answer.

After a moment, the kid turned away and muttered, "...'m not a dog."

"Hah?" Cross was confused. Which part had he mentioned about a dog? He threw that thought away and focused on the clown the kid was constantly glancing at. He frowned as he saw the golden eyes on the clown's face. He studied briefly the clown's face.

_Neah? No. Jaw's too broad. Mana, then._

He paused before looking back at the kid. He felt his heart clench at the familiar face staring back at him.

_I probably won't remember you, or anyone in the family._

The silver eyes that could sometimes be seen as blue had stared at him with fear and no recognition.

_I don't know how long this adaptation will last..._

It's been more than twenty years, idiot brother.

..._so please, take care of yourself._

I am, you hero-complex. And I want you to do the same to yourself.

"...If that's not your name, forget it." He said. The kid looked back at him. "Listen up, brat." He took some pleasure in calling this amnesiac pseudo-brother of his that. "Don't get too close to Mana." _He started a tragedy that can never be forgotten. You'll get hurt._

_Goodbye, Marian._

_Goodbye, Allen. _He then turned around and disappeared amongst the crowd. He did not want to see his brother's young face anymore. It hurt too much even though he said he would never bother with such mushy emotions again.

He had reached the inn he was staying and ignored the owner's words of dinner. He wasn't hungry anyway. He sat down beside the window and gazed at the people below. He did not know how long he stared but he started when a clown passed through his line of sight, followed by the person he last wanted to see.

"Mana! He can't be found anymore!"

Huh? Were they talking about him?

Then the two left his field of vision. And it was no longer Cross' concern.

He stood up and straightened his clothes. The sun had already set and he was getting hungry. His hands felt a bump in his General's coat pocket. He pulled it out and frowned.

"Oi, wake up, you lazy golem." Cross gave the golden ball a forceful shake. The golem immediately jumped off his hand and bared its pointy teeth at him.

Cross merely gave it an unimpressed look.

"Come on, Timcanpy. Fly on your own. You're gettin' heavy." He said. "I'm getting food and don't you dare steal it. I swear to God if Neah returns, I will beat him to every inch of his Noah body for teaching you to play-eat. Stupid, good-for-nothing, thieving golem..."

Tim just to spite his current owner enlarged his size and sat on his head.

"Now he made me look stupid. Gerroff, you bloody turkey!" Cross attempted to dislodge the large golem from his head, but to no avail. Tim had grabbed locks of Cross' hair and the General couldn't just pull him off. The damn thing would ruin his hair!

He gave up when it became apparent that the golem wouldn't leave. He was about to order some food when he felt a shift in the air. It was a feeling he got when associating with the Campbell brothers...

He hurriedly ran out the inn and followed his gut feeling. His feet led him to the most crowded place possible, the circus. He immediately went in the largest tent. The feeling was overwhelming that he failed to notice that Tim was no longer on his head. He entered just in time to see a circus performer burst into dust.

He saw the Millennium Earl twirling that stupid pumpkin golem round and round as the Akumas destroyed everything in sight.

"Che, as I suspected?" He muttered rhetorically. He pulled out his silver gun and aimed. "Destroy them, Judgement."

In a few shots the Akumas were destroyed. He was lucky that there were no Level Twos and Threes involved, especially with the Earl here.

Speaking of...

"Hey, fat-ass" Cross called. He no longer feared the Earl. "Still enjoying tragedy, I see."

The Earl laughed even though all his machines were destroyed.

"I find them simply delightful. You Exorcists can never appreciate a good story."

Cross fired his gun. He never expected his bullet to hit. He just wanted to shut the guy up. As he expected, the Earl blocked the bullet with ease and obliterated the shot.

"There's nothing here for you to find, fatty. Leave."

"Oh?" The Earl questioned. Cross had the feeling he was raising an eyebrow. "Then what of the I-nno-cence you are carrying?"

The Earl held his hands up in front of him and Cross saw the Dark Matter being concentrated on the Earl's palms. Which were aimed right at him.

_Shit!_

He nimbly dodged to the side and began his chant.

"_On, Avata, Ura, Masarakat, On-gatar."_

The Grave which had once been his brother's rose from the ground. The chains loosened and vanished at the same time as the coffin.

"_Activate!" _Maria began her hymn, knowing her owner's intention immediately. Cross vanished from the Noah's sight.

"I've got no intention of fighting you, you megalomaniac." He sighed as the Earl looked around, sighed dramatically, and then vanished through a heart-shaped door.

_Why was he here? Unless...Did he find about Mana being here? That man is truly the cause of everything._

Cross was snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Tim fly in front of his face.

"What now, ugly?" He growled. He pushed the golem off his face and took stock of his surroundings. The tent's interior was in shambles and it amazed the General on how it could still be standing.

He exited the tent. As soon as his whole body exited, he felt rather than saw the tent behind him collapse. He took back his amazement.

Oh well, it was the Ringmaster's problem now.

Speaking of whom, the Ringmaster was nowhere in sight and he doubt that he was caught in the crossfire.

He heard a faint cry coming from his left and saw a shocked Ringmaster staring at the tent remain then at him.

"How dare you?!" The Ringmaster cried as Cross approached the man. "You destroyed my tent!"

Cross, feeling rather annoyed at the moment, ignored him. The other circus members were already circling the tent and he saw that the boy was nowhere to be found. Dread filled his heart.

"Where's the kid?" He asked the Ringmaster. He did not like the nasty grin spreading across his face.

"Red? Let's just say, he's been taken care of." The Ringmaster replied.

Feeling his temper snap, he punched the man across his face. The Ringmaster hit the ground, unconscious. His two cronies attempted to hit him and they too met the same face.

_Goodbye, Marian._

He was worried. What did that sorry excuse for a man mean?

Then he heard another cry. This one was familiar.

"Tim...!" Cross immediately ordered. The golem which had now shrunk in size flew at a tent near them. He heard a growl inside then silence. With a start, he realized it was where the carnivores were caged. His worries were unfounded as Tim soon exited the tent, closely followed by a small figure.

He stalked toward the child who was no longer his brother and gave him a punch.

"You stinking brat...!" _How dare you make me worry?!_

He drew his gun and pointed it at the child's forehead. He no longer knew what he was doing. Everything was red, red, red.

"I told you not to get close to Mana, didn't I?"

His finger was already near the trigger. A few movements and he could fire his gun. Then he would no longer see this stranger wearing his brother's face.

Before he could do the regrettable act, something heavy collided with his face. It did not hurt him, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze.

"Tim!" He glared as he saw the golem. Secretly he was grateful. Tim had always been too intelligent for a golem.

He saw the pitiful look the child gave him and kept his gun.

"Che. I ran out of bullets." He lied through gritted teeth. He roughly picked up the child from the ground and resumed his glare.

"Don't forget, this is all because of you." He did not know who he was talking to anymore. In his barely suppressed anger, the image of Mana was overlapping with this child. He released the child from his hold.

"Disappear." He sighed wishing that could really happen to Mana. He turned around and returned to the inn he was staying.

It was late and he was already tired. He would return to that place tomorrow to check if there were still stragglers left. He doubt that there were anymore Akumas left in town now that the Earl had called them all in one place, but it wouldn't hurt to check now, wouldn't it?

He stripped off all his clothes, as he was wont to do, and went to bed. He would figure things out later when his thoughts weren't raging and his emotions in turmoil.

* * *

**December 25, 1882**

_I'm not stalking them. I'm not stalking them. I'm not stalking them. _Cross repeated the mantra in his head. _Oh who am I kidding? I'm following them secretly. That's the very definition of stalking._

He was definitely annoyed at both Mana and 'Red', but mostly at 'Red'.

As he promised yesterday, he did return to the circus. He found the place teeming with people, curious bystanders and gossipmongers. He circled the place once and no one approached him as his General coat was displayed proudly. No one even burst out of their skin.

Curiously, he did not see the child once. _Did I scare him off?_

He stopped by a tree with a freshly-dug soil near it. His copper eyes momentarily brushed over it, taking note of the ball placed above it.

_A grave..._

The ball had a few scratches and bites on it.

_...for a dog, it seems._

His thoughts briefly flashed to the first and only proper conversation he had with the child.

"_...'m not a dog"_

_Is this what he meant? _Cross wondered, although he let none of his thoughts show on his face. _Then the dog was probably called Allen, too._

He was startled out of his thoughts by a shout.

"_You're looking for your little brother! Your little brother who was separated from you! Didn't you say it, yesterday?!"_

Cross looked around and saw _them _talking a few distance away. Mana was bloodied and wearing soiled clothes and he was holding 'Red's hand.

From the distance he could still see Mana's face. He was shaking and his eyes seemed to hold so much pain. They were also curiously empty, but sad. _Had he lost his memories, too?_

Snow was starting to fall...

He saw as Mana reached out with his free hand and wiped the child's face. He saw him open his mouth and say something, and he heard 'Red's reply. Although it was said softly, it was still carried by the wind.

"Take me with you Mana." And Cross almost stormed over and throttled the brat. Was his warning not enough? "I'll tell you, what you have forgotten…I'll remember it for you….please. Take me with you..."

It took all his self-control not to interfere. He had a feeling that he shouldn't do so.

The two began walking away from the circus. Cross sighed. His brother had always been annoyingly stubborn and seemed to be attracted to trouble like moths to flame. Affiliating with the renegade Noah was one example.

And that was how it came to the point of Cross convincing himself he wasn't stalking them. He had shamelessly called forth Maria and had used her Curtain to shield him from the two's view. He proceeded to follow them from a distance.

They were, of course, unaware that they had a stalker. Not that Cross would call himself that.

When the sky turned red and more than two carts had passed by offering assistance did Cross realized that two were simply wandering aimlessly.

He mentally cursed in every language he knew which was a lot, considering he spent more time travelling than staying in the HQ. Cross had deactivated Maria when the sky had turned dark. The lack of proper lighting would make him hard to spot.

Night fell and the two continued to walk.

"We can't rest here, Allen, or else the Earl would find us." Mana seemed to be saying to the whining child.

Cross found it ironic that the one who caused his brother to lose everything was the one giving him everything. He supposed he should be happy that his brother finally got his proper name back. Being called 'Red' was tasteless.

It was not until the next day that they reached the next town. Locals had screamed when they saw the bloodied clothes Mana had and Allen mumbled off the excuse of 'attacked by wolves on the way'.

Cross followed them discreetly. His entrance was not as noticeable as the two's.

The townspeople took pity on the two and gave them a free house to stay in. When it became apparent that the two wouldn't be leaving for some time soon, Cross checked himself in an inn.

He set down his suitcase on the floor of his room. He was dirty, tired and annoyed. He couldn't stand being dirtied in anyway. He lit a cigarette and inhaled. It was a habit he gained some years ago, when he was actively searching for his brother.

He cleaned himself up in the inn's bathroom. After that, he returned to his room to rest. But he found out he could not. That damn cheering outside was too loud!

He drew his curtains apart and looked out the window.

Mana, it seemed, was intent on giving him hell. The clown was currently performing on the streets outside the inn. The people were causing so much ruckus that sleep sounded like a dream.

He angrily frowned and heavily sat on a chair, lighting another cigarette as he did so. He need a drink.

But first, he needed to send that damn report in. Heavens know that the Order, especially those stuck-ups from Central, would hound him worse than an Akuma bent on killing him.

He pulled out a parchment and began writing.

_On the day which should have been on your files, shit happened and Innocence was retrieved..._

Well, nobody said it had to be precise.

* * *

Cross would spend his free time away from the Order keeping tabs on the two. Sometimes there would be an Innocence that needed to be retrieved and he would lose them for a few months. He would destroy the Akumas around the two's area and kept them, but mostly his defenseless brother Allen, safe. This had been his routine for the next two years until he was given the order to destroy the Akuma plant in Edo.

* * *

**September 18, 1884**

Cross watched dispassionately as Allen mourned over Mana's rapidly cooling body. It was anticlimactic for the man who survived many things to die just because he was hit by an out of control carriage. People were already beginning to notice what happened.

They formed a circle around Allen until someone smart enough called a doctor.

He watched as the doctor pronounced Mana dead and ignored the feeling when Allen began crying once more. The doctor offered his sympathy and another man offered his help in burying the body. The man carried the body up a steep hill where a single dead tree stood and began digging a grave.

Then another man showed up, carrying a slab of stone. He was the driver of the carriage. There were some writings on the stone. It said: 'Mana Walker' and a passage underneath the name.

"I,I found his bag and found the name on the tag. I'm sorry, kid." The man offered to the still shocked child.

The men who helped soon left and Allen was left alone.

And as these happened, Cross just watched. Tim had been incessantly nudging him forward but he ignored the golem.

He knew that Allen would need time alone to mourn someone he recognized as a father. He was fairly confident that he was strong enough to resist the Earl's offer. He turned around to leave.

He was a long way away, far enough that he couldn't hear anything, but near enough to still see the top of the hill, when he heard a scream. It was Mana's voice. But he was already dead.

Cross cursed as he raced back to the top of the hill. He reached it in time to see the smoking remains of an Akuma frame. Allen was sitting in front of it, his red hair now a shocking white.

He knew what the other was thinking.

"Souls within an Akuma have no freedom. It is restrained for eternity, becoming the Millennium Earl's toy." He approached Allen and knelt beside him. "There's no way to save them but to destroy."

For the first time in forever, he noticed Allen's hand. "So you're a human born with an anti-Akuma weapon, eh?" But he knew Allen wasn't born with one. When had this happen? "That's an unfortunate fate." And he wasn't taking about the Innocence anymore. "It would seem you are yet another apostle chosen by God." God's plaything's more like it.

He paused and laid a hand on Allen's shoulder. He hated himself for saying the next line.

"Won't you become an Exorcist?"

* * *

**It occurred to me that this fic has no plot and is merely connecting dots. That's why I've decided to add one!**

**Reviews are much appreciated :)**

**Next chapter: Thank God that those boring prologues are over. _Allen remembers._**

**Feel free to ignore the next line.**

**Thanks once again to Ainekin, QuietRose-13 and Tora19Kage for your encouraging reviews :) And thanks to Avalon-curse, ****Nora678, ****TykiAllen, ****Happycafegirl and ****Lucia Tsukiyomi-hime for following/faving this fic.**


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